


"And that's why I don't drink..."

by Frasers_soulmate



Category: due South
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frasers_soulmate/pseuds/Frasers_soulmate
Summary: This is a translation of my German fic "...und darum trinke ich nicht."  It's one of a lot explanations why Fraser don't drink alcohol.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you kindly, ButterflyGhost, for doing this for me.
> 
> Because it will take time to translate, it comes in chapters.
> 
> Enjoy...

March, 1985 Northwest Territories

Sergeant Bob Fraser was glad when he finally reached the outpost. Darkness had just fallen, and he had been through one of the worst snowstorms of his life. The fur of his cap and hood was frozen; ice crystals hung in his hair, his eyebrows, and his day-old beard. He snorted as he rose from his dogsled and rubbed his thick, insulated gloves over his face. Then he stamped his feet to warm them. 

"Bloody cold." He muttered as he untied the yelping dogs and brought them into their appropriate kennel. "Yes, guys." He spoke affectionately to his' ‘troop.’ "It was fun for you, right?" He fed and watered them. As the dogs were fed, he unloaded his things from the carriage and then brought them into the barn. He longed for hot coffee, and perhaps equally hot soup, but first he had to take care of the dogs. That was a matter of honour for an RCMP Officer. "I'm getting too old for this," murmured the fortyseven-year-old Bob. He didn’t mean it. He was a police officer to the bone, and would remain so until his death. 

"Hello, everyone!" He called as he entered the office building of the RCMP outpost, grinning over his frozen face. A man, only a little older than him, rose from his desk and walked toward him. 

"Bob Fraser, you devil!" He exclaimed, laughing, "I never thought that you could reach us today. It’s forty below outside, not to mention that this is the worst snowstorm in years. " 

"Oh, come on, John!" Bob replied cheerfully, "It’s not that bad." He peeled off the thick layers of his outer garments. 

A young policewoman who had a secret crush on the legendary Robert Fraser, brought him a cup of hot coffee. "Thank you, Louise," Bob said with a grateful smile, sat down in a chair and took the cup in both hands to keep warm. "How was the patrol, Bob?" Asked Sergeant John Whitman. 

"Unspectacular," Bob replied, taking a sip of hot coffee. 

"Ha!" John exclaimed, laughing, "And there I was, thinking you were hunting another felon. Where Robert Fraser is trouble is not far behind." Bob joined in the laughter. 

"Don’t exaggerate, John. It’s not that bad. But if you’ve got something to eat and a bed for me I would be grateful. " 

"Of course," John said, "and I have something even better." With a mysterious grin, he opened his desk drawer and brought out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "This’ll make you sleep like a baby." He said. 

Bob laughed. "I suppose you have no children?" he asked, although he knew that the sergeant had two pretty daughters. He continued: "Because if you did you would know that babies don’t sleep so well. I remember that perfectly from when my Ben was a baby. Every few hours he’d wake up and howl when we wanted to let him sleep. You’d think we were starving him. He was a tiny, delicate child, but could he cry... I don’t know where Caroline found the strength. As for me, it made me crazy." He sighed and looked longingly into his whiskey glass. "Oh, Caroline." He whispered sadly. "I miss her."

John`s eyes flickered briefly with compassion. He had never met Caroline Fraser, but he knew the story of her death – well, most of it.

To distract Bob, he asked: "How is Benton?" 

Bob smiled proudly. "Oh, well, I suppose. He came top of his class at Depot and is stationed a few hours away from Whitehorse. With the old Sergeant, remember?"

John laughed. "Well, as far as I know, Meers is a few years younger than we are. When did you last see your boy? "

"I visited him at Christmas. He’s living in my old cabin." John frowned. 

"That’s a bit lonely for such a young guy, don’t you think? How old is he now? " 

“Twenty-three."

"Well, at that age, he should be going out, meeting girls, things like that."

Bob rubbed thoughtfully with his thumb over his eyebrow. 

”Yes, you’re right. But Ben's not the type for that kind of thing. He’s more of a loner."

“I wonder what side he gets it from?"

"Hey!" Bob exclaimed with mock indignation. "I’ve never spurned pretty girls! When I was Ben’s age, I was married to Caroline with tiny, roaring baby.” 

They both laughed. 

That night Bob slept soundly, dreaming of days with his little family.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter...just saying...

September 1995, Chicago

 

The green 1971 Buick Riviera parked in front of the abandoned warehouse at the harbor. His inmates were the Chicago Cop Detective Ray Vecchio, the Mountie Constable Benton Fraser and his deaf Wolf Diefenbaker. They had to stake out the warehouse, because they got the lead that there was a big weapon deal. But nobody knew exactly when.

"The second night in a row and nothing happens," Ray groaned, wiping the sweat from his face. It was a very warm night for a September in Chicago. His friend Ben smirked. "You must have patience, Ray." "Patience!" Ray groaned. "Instead of killing my nights here, I could sit in my favorite bar and drink a nice, cold beer." Ben laughed. "Well, Ray. This must wait a little longer. First we have to do our duty." "Benny!" Ray groaned, "This isn't your duty. You could sit in a bar now and drink an ice-cold beer." "I do not drink, Ray," the Mountie replied. 

Ray nodded slowly, wiping the perspiration from his forehead again. "I know," he said, "but why not?" Ben grinned. "That's a long story."  
"It doesn't matter, Fraser, I just have time. A lot of it." Ben turned to Diefenbaker, who was lying in the back seat and said, "Come on, Dief, let's go." The wolf sighed and laid his head on his paws. "Oh, no," Ben said sternly, "I don't think Ray would like it if you pee on the upholstery of his beloved car. He would never let you drive with him anymore and you'd have to walk for the rest of your life." Dief sat up, frightened and whimpered. Ray laughed. Then Ben opened the door. "Dief and I have to stretch our legs for a moment, Ray," he said, got out, folded the seat and let the wolf out.

He stretched and twitched his face briefly as he felt a short but intense pain in his back. Sitting for so long in the same position wasn't good for him, since ... 

"Fraser?" Ray interrupted him in his thoughts. He bent down to the window and looked questioningly at his friend. "What is it?" "Everything okay?" Ray seemed worried. Ben smiled. "Of course, Ray. My back is just a bit stiff. I should move a little." Ray nodded. "Okay, Benny."He looked at his friend and his wolf.

For a few weeks Ben had been able to work again and Ray was glad that they were still friends, after this terrible story. They had never really talked about it. Not even when they had driven to Ben's beloved wilderness to rebuild his father's cabin. Well, there were other things important.  
Survive, for example after they crashed with the plane and Ben had been injured. Afterwards, Ray was a little proud of himself.

When he was a child, he had always wanted to go camping with his father. If only once. But Pop had other plans ...  
Ray had taken care of his injured friend and brought them both out of the wilderness. Benny and he were just a perfect team, even without many words.

After a while Ben and Dief came back. "Did something happen?" Ben asked, pointing to the warehouse. Ray shook his head. "No, everything's quiet." Ben let Dief jump back to the rear seat of the Riv and got himself in too.  
He leaned back and closed his eyes.  
"You're sure everything's okay?" Ray asked with an anxious look. "Yes, Ray," Ben sighed, but he knew his friend didn't believe him. Since the accident, he was always so anxious.  
"You know, Benny," Ray said, "if you've trouble with your back, I can drive you home."  
"I'm fine, Ray!" Ben almost barked, his blue eyes sparkling in the dark. Ray raised his hands in surrender. "All right, all right." Ben nodded and leaned back.

"Damn hot for September," Ray complained after a while. "I'd give something else for a cool beer." Ben didn't answer.  
"Hey, Benny, you wanted to tell me the story why you don't drink."  
Ben groaned.  
"I did NOT want that."  
"I want to hear it."  
"I can't imagine."  
Ray giggled.  
"Has it anything to do with arctic temperatures or eskimos?"  
Ben looked at him reproachfully.  
"Inuit, Ray and ... no, it doesn't. But with something that will be much less pleasing to you."  
Curiously, Ray straightened, grabbed behind his seat and took out two bottles of water. One of them he tossed to Ben.  
"Well, now I'm curious," he said. "Come on, Fraser, tell me."  
Ben sighed. "I'll rather not, Ray."  
That Ray wanted to hear from all the stories he'd heard ...  
"Come on, Fraser. You can tell me something about your life. We know about two years now, my family has almost adopted you, and I know almost nothing about you."  
"Ray, please. You don't want to hear that." "Try it."  
Ben sighed again.  
"All right. But I warned you ... "


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3...how Benton is dealing with his fault...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 of the translation.

March 1985 Northwest Territories

 

Bob Fraser woke up with the first sunbeam and felt fresh and recovered. When he came to the RCMP office, Sgt. John Whitman was already sitting behind his desk. "Good morning, John." Bob said in a good mood.  
"Good morning, Bob," he replied. "Have you slept well?" "Yes, very well. Thank you. " "Coffee?" "I'ld like that." Bob sat in the chair, where he had already sat yesterday. John called Louise, the young policewoman, and asked her to make coffee.  
"It seems that the snowstorm is over," Bob said, "I'll be on my way." John smiled. "Yeah," Bob replied, "I'll meet my old friend and partner Buck Frobisher in a few days." "Oh, good old Buck. How is he?" "Very well, I guess."  
Louise came with the coffee and a fax that she gave John, "That just came in, Sir," she said, looking at Bob from the side. John took the fax, thanked her, and read. He frowned. "Something wrong, John?" Bob asked as he saw the expression of his longtime friend. John looked at him, sadness and concern in his eyes. He swallowed a few times, then cleared his throat and said quietly, "Perhaps you should read this ..." Irritated, Bob stood up, took the few steps to John's desk and took the fax. "What is it?" He asked uncertainly. John replied, "It's from Sgt. Meers." "Oh, my God!" Bob sighed, "Benton ...". He dropped into the chair and read.

 

Constable Benton Fraser went home earlier today. He had told his superior, Sgt. Meers, that he didn't feel well, which was just a lie.  
Was it really?  
For weeks he hadn't slept properly. Since he was back after he arrested her and handed her over to the authorities. 

Victoria Metcalf. 

But he had no choice. She had committed a crime and had to live with the consequences.  
Had he really had no choice?  
No one knew he had found her there. Out there at Fortitude Pass. In this damn snow storm. First he had saved her life and then she saved his. She had kept him alive with her voice when he wanted to give up. This beautiful voice ...  
He heard her at night in his dreams. She asked him to let her go, but what did he do?

"Sorry, Victoria. I'm so sorry, but I can't ..." 

"Why not, Ben? "

Yes why not?  
Because he had to do his duty?  
Because he had promised it to his country? Because he wanted to be like his father, so that Bob could finally love him?  
Had he destroyed a young life?  
Had not she deserved a second chance? 

My God, she wasn't even twenty years old! And the worst was he loved her.  
They'd spent four days together, he hardly knew her, but he knew he loved her. 

Unconditionally.

Ben entered his cabin and slammed the door behind him. Well, actually it was his father's cabin, but he was rarely here. Ben laughed joylessly. Of course the living legend Sgt. Robert Fraser was rarely here.  
Why should he?  
He had never spent much time with his family. Not even when Ben was still a little boy. Yes, not even when his wife was still alive. No, not Bob Fraser!  
He gave the six-year-old Ben to the grandparents in charge and disappeared again. Benton thought he could count on the fingers of his hands how many times his father had been at home.  
Not even when he finished the academy as the best of his year his father had come.  
Ben shook his head and dropped onto his sleeping cot. How would he have liked it if... 

No, Benton! Abruptly, he sat up.  
He was an adult man, a mountie, damn it! He could make his own decisions.  
And he had chosen his duty, even if it was wrong.  
The court hearing a few weeks ago was hard. Hard for him! Victoria was sentenced to ten years imprisonment.  
Ten years!  
That was a long time. She would be a mature woman when she got out. She would spend the best years of her life behind bars. Years in which others had fun in life, founded a family ...  
A family.  
Perhaps he could have found a family with her if everything had turned out another way.  
He saw her face in front of him.  
Her beautiful eyes shot flashes as she was led away and her mouth shaped the silent words: "I hate you, Benton Fraser!"

Amazed, Ben noticed that his face was wet with tears.  
"Oh God! What did I do?"  
He groaned, got up and went to the closet where he kept his 'soul comforter'. The whiskey would help him sleep and he needed sleep.  
Ben lay on his cot and waited for the whiskey to numb him. It had not been much in the bottle, but he hoped it would be enough. Tomorrow he had to get for more. Urgently!  
Only in this way was he able to restrain the demons who kept him awake every night.  
He stared into the darkness and saw her face as she looked at him and begged him to let her go. But he had remained strong even though he loved her ...

Stop it, Benton Fraser, he ordered himself and turned to his side. But the demons couldn't be driven out. He needed more whiskey. A lot more. He cried himself into sleep.

The next morning, Ben had no desire to get up, but he had to go to work. He had to? He could call in sick and then get something to drink.  
He took the radio that the RCMP had provided him so that he could be reached in an emergency and radioed to his superior.  
"Constable Fraser here, Sir." He said when Sergeant Meers answered and was frightened at the sound of his own voice. It sounded rough and croaking. "What's the matter, Ben?" Sgt. Meers asked. Ben cleared his throat. "Um ... Sir, I ... I'm afraid I have to call in sick. I guess I ... uh ... I've caught a flu." He blushed, and was glad the sergeant couldn't see him. Now he had finally become a liar.  
He, Benton Fraser ... no, Constable Benton Fraser, a man of law.  
Sgt. Meers replied, "I hear it. Do you need a doctor, Ben?" "No," he answered, scared. "No, thank you, sir. I think I'll be fine again in a few days." "Good. Let me know if you need something." "Thank you, Sir." Ben hung up the microphone of the radio. He breathed a sigh of relief. But he was ashamed. He had lied to his superior. That was the beginning of the end.  
If his father would knew! ...  
If his father would knew this, nothing would change.  
His father wasn't interested in him!  
He rose furiously and dressed. What was the rage that he had felt for some time? On whom was he furious? Damn, he didn't want to think about it!  
He made his way to Old Joe, a native of whom he knew he was destillating whiskey, against the law.  
He laughed bitterly.  
Again he broke a law, but Victoria he hadn't wanted to let go.  
Oh, Fraser!  
What has become of you?

Ben was glad to be back home. He sat down on his bed and took a sip of whiskey. The stuff tasted disgusting and actually he hated it, but it stunned him. Stunned his guilt.  
At some point he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...will Bob Fraser finally be there for his son?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....the next one...

When he woke up he didn't know if it was still evening or already the next morning. In any case, it was dark.  
He didn't care what time of the day it was.  
Or what month ... or year.  
He just wanted to forget.  
The whiskey bottle was still half full. He took it and went to the porch.  
The stars glittered and the moon shone.  
It was lovely outside, but Ben had no eyes for the beauty of nature he otherwise loved. The snow glittered in the moonlight, and he thought about how easy it would be to lie down in the snow and fall asleep.  
And never wake up again.  
He wasn't cold.  
Why wasn't he cold?  
He stood outside, only in jeans and sweater, and didn't feel the cold. It had to be at least -20°C. He put the bottle to his lips and drank it empty all in once. Then he flung the empty bottle furiously into the snow.  
Why, damn it, wasn't he cold?  
Was he already frozen?  
His heart was already frozen, yes, so it had to be.  
And not just here in the cold winter night. No, it had happened at the Fortitude Pass.  
In the disastrous snowstorm, when she kept him alive.  
Only with her voice.  
... Victoria ...  
He fell to his knees and a scream like a wounded animal came from his throat. Deep inside him was something that wanted to get out, but he didn't know what it was.  
His whole fear, anger and guilt lay in this one cry:

"VICTORIAAAA ...!"

A long time later he realized that the tears were frozen on his face. And he was trembling.  
Was he cold?  
He stood up, and staggered back to the cabin.  
The fire was off, but that didn't bother him. Completely dressed and with a new bottle of whiskey he crawled under his blanket and tried to sleep.  
The winter sun appeared through the window of the cabin and woke Ben.  
He pressed the palm of his hand to his eyes and moaned. His head was pounding and he was terribly sick. If he didn't get up immediately, he would...  
He just managed to bend over the edge of the bed before he throwed up.

"Oh, God!" He groaned. His head ached and his stomach twitched. He couldn't...  
Didn't want any more. He had had enough.  
He didn't wake up until noon, because the radio was beeping. Groaning, he sat up.  
His head still hurt horribly, but at least the nausea was gone. He ignored the radio and stood up slowly. Then he took a bowl of water, a rag, and removed the mess from his bed. Then he washed, brushed his teeth to get rid of the terrible taste in his mouth and shaved.  
Slowly he felt better.

Okay, Benton!, he exhorts himself, that has to end.  
That wasn't going on further. But in the evening he drank again.  
He must be able to sleep.

When he got up the next morning, he felt okay. He decided to go to work today so that Sgt. Meers had no suspicion. To get through the day, he drank a glass of whiskey and wondered when he had eaten something for the last time. He couldn't remember. It was also not important because he had no appetite anyway. Besides, he had nothing in the house.

"Good morning, Ben." Meers greeted him as he entered the office. "Are you feeling better?" Ben nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you." The sergeant wasn't really convinced.  
Ben looked terrible. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes.  
"Are you sure?" the Sergeant asked.  
"I'm fine," Ben said weakly. The Sergeant sighed. "All right then. But I'm not going to send you out. You're doing paperwork today." Resigned Ben took it.  
Around noon, Ben realized that he was getting worse and worse. He sweated and trembled. And he longed for a sip of whiskey.  
Sgt. Meers knocked on his office door, opened it, and put his head inside. "Take a break, Ben," he said paternally. He was worried about his constable. Ben nodded and stood up. Suddenly he felt dizzy and wavered. "Oh," he moaned, holding onto the edge of the desk. "Ben!" Meers cried out, frightened. Ben grinned obliquely. "All right, sir," he said. "I think my blood sugar is low. I haven't eaten anything yet. The stomach, you know?" The Sergeant shook his head.  
"Sit down, boy. I'll be right back."

He brought Ben his own sandwiches and a cup of tea from his thermos. "Eat," he said. "Then I'll take you home." Ben stared at him with wide eyes.  
"Ah ... but ..." he stammered. The Sergeant waved his hand. "No contradiction! You're obviously sick." Ben gave in. Maybe it was really better. At least he kept the sandwiches in his stomach.  
Sgt. Meers dropped him at his cabin. After convincing his superior that he was fine on his own and wanted to radio him, when he needed something, he entered the cabin. The first thing he did was to get a glass of whiskey.  
Then another.  
Then he dropped onto his cot and closed his eyes.  
Then he saw her again.

Victoria.

At the Fortitude Pass, as she recited the poem. Again and again, to stop him from falling asleep and freezing.

Victoria.

In the small outpost as she took his hands and asked him to let her go.  
"I'm sorry, Victoria. I'm so sorry, but I can't..." " Why not, Ben? "  
He had never answered this question.  
He had no answer.

Victoria.

When she was taken away and she looked at him. With this incredibly blank look. As if her soul had been robbed.  
"One day you'll be sorry, Benton," she whispered. Yes, she was right.  
He would regret it for a lifetime.

Victoria.

In the courtroom. They put on her handcuffs.  
"Why, Ben?" She whispered and he looked into those soulless eyes. Then her dumb words that burned into his heart forever.  
"I hate you, Benton Fraser!"  
Yes, she had every reason to hate him.  
"And I love you, Victoria."

He sobbed, hiding his face in his pillow.  
The next day he didn't go to work.  
Sgt. Meers knew that he was not doing well. He stayed in bed all day. When he woke up, he drank a whiskey, then fell asleep and dreamed of her.

"One day you'll be sorry, Benton!"  
One day ... one day ...  
"Why, Ben?"  
Why ... why ...?  
He had no answer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Bob comes for help...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments.  
> Here's the next one...  
> I hope you'll enjoy it.

In the middle of the night he was awakened by a scream. It lasted until he realized it was his own cry. He lay still and listened to himself. His heart pounded like a steam hammer.  
\- Guilt - guilt - guilt ... hammed it. He couldn't stand it anymore.

Somehow in the morning Ben woke up. Trembling and sweating. He felt like an iron fist gripped at his heart. He couldn't breathe. Slowly he sat up. His head ached and his heart raced.  
Air!  
He needed air!  
With a jerky movement he tore his shirt off his body. Why couldn't he breathe? He ran out of the cabin and sank into the snow.  
Slowly he calmed down and realized with surprise that he had had a panic attack. Okay ... well ... no, bad, but okay.  
He got up, went to the cabin and dressed. Then he set off for Old Joe.  
He needed supplies.

When Ben hadn't reported on the third day and couldn't be reached via radio, Sgt. Meers was worried. After dinner he went to Ben's cabin. He knocked, but he got no answer. Then he pushed the latch down. The door opened. He entered quietly. It was dark because the window shutters were closed. And it smelt terrible of sweat, vomit, and especially of alcohol.

"Ben?" the sergeant asked. No answer. He went in a few steps and pushed his foot against some empty bottles. They staggered and rattled and rolled over the floor. A moan came from the bed. In the diffuse light that came through the open door, Sgt. Meers went to a window, opened it, and pushed open the shutter.  
Ben was lying on the bed, clothed only with his longjohns, and murmured something unintelligible. Sgt. Meers did not know whether he should be annoyed or concerned. Apparently, his constable had an alcohol problem.

"Ben!" He shouted, opening all windows. From the barn the dogs were barking and howling. Apparently, they hadn't had any food for a long time. It wasn't Ben Fraser's way to neglect his 'troop'.  
Ben groaned again as the light fell into the room and blinded him. He dug his face into the pillow.  
Meers came to his bed and shook him by the shoulder. "Ben! Damn, wake up! What's wrong with you?" Now he was annoyed. "Leave me alone." Ben growled. "Leave me all alone. I don't want to any more."  
"Ben!" The sergeant said vigorously, "What happened?" Ben groaned, and slowly sat up. His head ached horribly and his stomach twitched. He pressed his hands to his eyes. "Give me a few days, sir," he said softly. He should have known that Meers would be looking for him, if he didn't report. Now he found him in this state. But frighteningly, he didn't care. He wasn't ashamed. He felt nothing and that was good.

"You need help, Ben," said Meers paternally. Ben shook his head, which was a mistake, for flashes of lightning flashed before his eyes and the pain intensified. "Please, sir," he panted. "Please give me only a few days." "Okay," said Meers, "get up, wash yourself, and fix the mess here. And then take care, damn it, of your dogs. Two days! You have 48 hours! If you don't get it, I have to report you, did you understand that?" Ben nodded. "Yes, sir."  
On the way back to the station Meers decided to send a telegram to Bob Fraser. It was time that he finally took care of his boy. 

When Bob had read the telegram, he sat quietly and stared into space. Sgt. Meers, Ben's superior, had written that he should come at once. Ben obviously had problems and needed his help.  
Problems ... What kind of problems did the boy have? Had he got himself into trouble again? Had he violated the law? No! Not Ben! That wasn't his kind...

"Everything okay, Bob?" John's question snapped him out of his thoughts. "What? Uh ... yes ... no. I ... I don't know. Something's wrong with Ben. John, I need a few days off. I have to look after my boy."  
John smiled sympathetically. "Take as much time as you need, Bob. It's okay."  
"Thank you." Bob said, standing up from his chair. He had to make preparations. It would take a few days for him to be with his son.  
A few hours later he was on the way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob is trying to help his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks dueSers for holding on...

Ben got up after his boss had left. Sgt. Meers was right. He had to take care of the dogs at least. After he had dressed, he went over to the barn. On the way back to the cabin he heard the engine of a snowmobile. He squinted his eyes and blinked at the sunlight. It was the postman.  
"Good-day, Constable Fraser," he said friendly, "I have a letter for you." Ben thanked him, took the letter and went back to the cabin.  
Who should write to him?  
When he looked at the sender of the letter, he was startled. It was the address of the prison where Victoria was imprisoned. Countless letters he had written to her, apologized, tried to explain to her why he had done what he had done.  
He had told her that he loved her and that he wanted to wait for her, but all the letters came back unopened.  
Acceptance refused.  
And now?  
His hands trembled so hard that he couldn't open the envelope. The room began to spin and suddenly he was terribly sick. Thousand thoughts rushed through his head.  
She had answered him.  
Finally.  
His greatest wish had come true.  
Maybe ... yes, maybe she could forgive him one day.  
He poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank it all at once. With trembling hands he opened the letter ...

-Fraser! Never write me again! For me you're dead. V.-

That was all that was written on the single sheet. He turned it over several times, looked for more in the envelope, but there was nothing.  
Nothing!  
That was it.  
She hated him.  
No, worse.  
He was dead for her.  
Perhaps it would have been better if she had really let him die. In the blizzard at Fortitude Pass ...  
He felt his heart stop.  
His soul turned to ice.  
He was frozen.  
Cold.  
Numb.  
Nothing counted anymore.  
Nothing was important anymore.  
He drank the bottle all at once and lay down on his cot. The letter fell carelessly to the ground.  
Ben just wanted to sleep.  
Sleep forever.  
No pain anymore.  
No suffering.  
No loneliness.  
Only deep, dreamless sleep ...

For four days Bob was on the road. On the evening of the fourth day he reached the station completely exhausted. Sgt. Meers was about to leave the office. Startled, he looked at the door as the fur-covered figure, covered with snow, entered the office. Bob pushed back the hood.  
"Sgt. Fraser! " Meers called in surprise. Bob tapped the snow from his clothes. "Yes. I have received the telegram and immediately set off," he said. "I didn't think you could come so fast." Meers was amazed. Bob replied, "I just happened to be in the outpost at John's." Meers offered him a seat and hot tea, which Bob gratefully accepted. Then he asked, "What about Benton?" Sgt. Meers sighed deeply. "I'm afraid he's got an alcohol problem."  
Bob looked at him in surprise, then laughed out loud: "Ben? Never!"  
But Meers nodded and told him how he had found Ben. Bob stood up. "Well, I will ..." he muttered angrily.  
"Bob!" Meers held him back. "No. Not today. It's dark outside and a snow storm is coming in. You can sleep at my place and tomorrow you go to him. Your dogs also need a break." He knew Bob Fraser preferred the dog sled to the snowmobile. After some back and forth, Bob agreed.

The next morning the storm was over, and Bob's anger had also lain, and had given way to a certain anxiety. After a quick breakfast, he said goodbye to Sgt.Meers and his wife, and set out for his cabin.  
When he got there, the window shutters were closed. The snow extended to the porch, and no path was scooped. The cabin looked unused and for a moment he wondered if Ben was at home at all.  
Then he heard the whine and barks of Ben's dogs from the barn. His own team was part of the team. Bob was furious. How could this guy just neglect the dogs? Good sledge dogs were a great capital here in the north. He had made this clear to him in time. But it was equally clear to him that he had spent too little time with his son. He trudged to the cabin. He opened the door and entered. It stank of alcohol.  
Disgusted, Bob twisted his face, then opened all the windows. After some light fell into the cabin, he looked around.  
His son lay in bed and slept. He was unshaven, sweaty, and his hair was too long. Bob shook his head. There were a lot of empty or half-full bottles of whiskey. Damn, what did the guy think? He went to Ben's bed and shook him.  
"Wake up, Benton!" Bob was really annoyed. Ben didn't react. Bob went to the door. His eyes fell on the letter, which lay on the ground.  
What was that?  
He picked it up and read the sentence. He turned the paper back and forth, but there was only that one sentence.  
"Hmm," he growled. What did that mean? Then he saw the sender on the envelope and remembered this case. Ben had been following a suspect in a bank robbery some time ago, and had come into a terrible snowstorm. For four days he was considered missing until he appeared in an outpost.  
With her.  
Bob had been so proud of his son. It was his first big case. But what did this line mean? Suddenly all the alarm bells rang. The boy hadn't...  
"Oh, God!" Bob groaned, put the letter on the table and looked over to his sleeping son. Then he went out, took a handful of snow, went back to Ben and put the snow into his shirt. With a start, Ben sat up and cursed. When he saw his father, he groaned.  
"Dad! What ... what are you doing here?" "Sgt. Meers has sent me a telegram. He said you have problems. Damn, what's wrong with you, Benton?" Ben rubbed his face. His father noticed how pale he was.  
"I can't anymore, Dad." Ben whispered and suddenly began to sob. All the aggravated pain and suffering came to the fore and he could do nothing about it. His body was shaken by crying.  
Bob sat down on the edge of the bed, took him in his arms, and rocked him like a child. "Shh," he said, brushing his hair. Ben couldn't remember when his father had hugged him last time. "Help me, Dad," he sobbed. "Please help me. I can't do it anymore." It was the first time that he asked his father for help ...  
"That's why I'm here, son," Bob said soothingly. After a while, the sobbing gave way and Ben became quieter. Bob took a glass of water and said, "Get up, Ben. Make yourself clean and shave. Then we eliminate the chaos here." Ben nodded and stood up slowly. His head ached and he was dizzy. But now his father was here to help him. He was no longer alone.  
When he finished, Bob ordered him to pour out and dispose of all the whiskey bottles. He did so without complaining. They silently cleaned the cabin. Bob didn't blame his son. When Ben secretly took the letter, he pretended not to see it.  
Even though he had rarely been home when Ben needed him most, he knew his son would talk when he was ready. He was very much like his father.  
Bob grabbed a couple of Ben's things. He looked at him questioningly.  
"What are you doing, Dad?"  
"You're coming with me. Put on your uniform, we're going out on patrol."  
Ben was confused, but he did so.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Ben and his Dad found a way out of this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you kindly for your patience, dear dueser friends...

When the Frasers had set up their camp, it was already dark. Bob had been eating. He held a plate to his son, but he shook his head. "Thank you, Dad, but I'm not hungry," he said softly. He didn't feel well. He was alternately hot and cold, and he was trembling. Besides, he was terribly sick. What would he have given for a sip of whiskey?  
"Eat, son. You have to stay strong." Bob grumbled angrily. Ben took the plate and tried to eat a few bites. Suddenly he dropped the plate, jumped up, and ran to the next bush. Bob heard him choke and shook his head. He hoped it wasn't too late. He hoped he could still save his son. He knew Ben was strong.  
"How long is that going?" He asked as Ben came back. He couldn't quite hide the apprehension in his voice. Ben sat back at the fire and shrugged. "Don't know," he replied softly. "A few weeks maybe."  
Oh, he knew exactly when it had started! 

Again he saw her as she was led out of the courtroom. Her soulless eyes ...  
He froze.  
Although he was sitting by the fire, he was terribly cold. He put his arms around his body and leaned forward. Without a word, Bob stood up and put a blanket around his shoulders.

That night Bob Fraser was awakened by screams.  
Immediately he jumped to his feet and looked around. Then he realized who was screaming.  
"Ben!" He shouted and went over to his boy. Ben had cuddled into his sleeping bag, tossed and turned. He screamed and sobbed. 'Oh God! He has nightmares!' Bob thought. Cautiously, he stroked the sweaty curls from his son's forehead. Then he drew his brows and felt Ben's face. "The boy is running a fever," he muttered, "Oh, man! It'll be harder than I thought." Bob sat down beside his son and held him in his lap. He stroked him and sang to him, as if he were six years old again and had to learn cruelly that his mother would never come back.

Longingly, Bob looked up into the sky where millions of stars glowed and sighed.  
"Oh, Caroline. I wish you were here. Our boy needs me and I have no idea what to do. I'm a lousy father, Caroline."

The next morning, Bob instilled some tea to his feverish son, praying that he at least kept it in and put him in the sled. 

Around noon he went to rest.

"Dad?" He heard Ben's croaking voice as he finished eating. "I'm here, son," he replied. "Thirst." Ben whispered. Sure, Bob thought, he must be thirsty. He gave him tea and Ben drank.  
"Slowly, boy." Bob said softly, "You shouldn't spit it out again." When Ben had drunk, he leaned back in the sleigh and groaned. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said softly.  
"Nonsense," Bob muttered. "How are you?" Ben grinned weakly.  
"Better."  
"Liar."  
"Dad ..."  
"How are you really, Benton?"  
Ben sighed. "I feel as if a truck had hit me. And I'm cold."  
"Hmm, "Bob grumbled, wrapping him tightly into the blankets. "You have a fever."  
Ben nodded, then fell asleep again.

The fever bothered Bob. That his son would have withdrawal symptoms, was clear to him, but fever? He recalled a similar situation about two years ago. Ben had just finished training and was assigned to his father. Bob had his hand in the game because he hoped to be able to spend some time with his son.  
They had prosecuted a suspect, when Ben was jumping from a twenty-foot cliff and breaking his leg. They were days away from the next outpost and a snowstorm came in. Ben got a bad infection. He had high fever and was sleeping almost the whole time. Bob was grateful for his son's sleep, so he could at least spare him the pain during transport. When they finally reached the outpost, the storm was in full swing.  
Eleven days they were snowed in at that time and couldn't get any help for Ben. Bob knew if he didn't get help soon, Ben would die or at least lose his leg. When they could finally get him out, he was no longer conscious. But he managed it. It took almost half a year, but he recovered. Ben was a fighter.

When Bob set the camp in the evening, Ben was awake. He had slept almost the whole day.  
Bob asked, "How do you feel, boy?"  
"Okay," Ben murmured.  
He was feeling much better, but he realized that he had a long way to go.  
"Hungry?" Bob wanted to know.  
"Yes, a little."  
Ben himself was amazed at his response, but he was actually hungry. He peeled himself out of the sleigh, and walked with wobbly steps to the camp fire.  
"You can feed the dogs," Bob said.  
He knew he had to distract Ben with work.

The next night was bad for Ben. He had terrible nightmares, pain, and spasms. Bob was really worried about him. First in the morning he fell asleep.  
This time they didn't leave until noon. The sky was cloudy and it looked like snow. Bob watched the weather. He knew his weak, sick son wouldn't survive a snowstorm out here, so he changed the direction.  
A few hours away there was a shelter, which had often been used by Bob. There they would wait the storm out.  
When they reached the hut, the storm was quite strong. Bob brought Ben in, made a camp in front of the old cast-iron stove, and went for firewood. As long as the dogs Ben should keep warm. An hour later it was pleasantly warm in the hut, but Ben was cold. He had fever and chills. Bob was seriously worried. He realized that his son was better off in a hospital, but the nearest hospital was hundreds of kilometers away. Perhaps it would have been better if he had taken him to a hospital and not taken with him. But now it was too late.  
He felt guilty.  
Possibly, he had brought his son into a life-threatening situation.  
"I am the most miserable father who runs around on God's earth," he muttered to himself.  
Towards evening, Ben was awake and Bob tried to pour some broth into him. It wasn't much, but Ben managed to keep it in. Then he slept again.  
Outside the storm howled.  
Ben slept restlessly and dreamed badly, but in the morning he felt better.  
Relieved, Bob noted that the fever has broken. Maybe his son would make it...survive.  
The storm lasted two days, and when it stopped, they were snowed in.  
Bob had laid a good supply of firewood, but it too would soon be depleted. Likewise, the food supplies, even if Ben didn't eat much. But he was better. He was longer awake and no longer vomited. Besides, the fever was gone. That was good, Bob thought.

On the evening of the second day they sat in front of the wood-burning stove. Ben was wrapped in his sleeping bag and Bob gave him a cup of hot tea.  
"Drink that, son. That warms," he said gently.  
Ben smiled. "Thank you, Dad," he said softly. "Thank you for being here for me." "Stop it," Bob growled ashamed, but Ben replied, "Yes, Dad. You saved my life."  
Bob stood up and took firewood. Such conversations were embarassing.  
"Yeah," he said sarcastically, "After I put it on the line."  
He laughed cheerlessly.  
"I should've brought you to the hospital." Ben shook his head energetically.  
"No, Dad. As it is, it's good. In hospital I would have been alone again."  
Bob stared at his son. For the first time, he realized how Ben had to feel.  
"I should have been there for you more often," he murmured as he sat down again to his son.  
"You can still do that," Ben said. 

Then he began to tell.

How he had sought and found Victoria. As they were both almost frozen, and she kept him alive by reciting this poem.  
Over and over again.  
How they reached the outpost after four days, and he handed her over to his colleagues.  
And then there was the trial.  
Ben, as the arresting officer, had to make his statement.  
"You know, Dad, I loved her. I really loved her.The woman with whom I could have imagined a future, I have arrested. She's so young, Dad. And I'll send her to prison. It would have been so easy to let her go."  
"She's a criminal, son. You did the right thing."  
Ben laughed hard.  
"Yes, the brave Benton Fraser, son of the living legend Sgt. Robert Fraser, does of course only his duty."  
"Do not blame me, Ben."  
"I'm not. It's just ... "  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
"Have I ever forced you to anything, son?" "Not with words, Dad. You were far too seldom at home."  
"My God, Benton! I know I'm a bad father and I'm sorry, you must believe me. But I've never asked for anything from you. It was your decision to become a Mountie."  
"Yes, you're right. I didn't want anything else for my life. I wanted you to be proud of me, Dad. And now? Look at me!"  
"I'm proud of you, Benton. I always was."  
"But you never told me. Or shown."  
"Oh, Ben! The Frasers were never good at expressing their feelings."  
"Yes, I know. I can't do it either."

They were silent for a while, then Ben said, "I wrote her letters to prison. Countless. I wanted to explain to her why I had to do what I had done. But they all came back unopened. And then ... last came this one letter ... "  
He took the piece of paper from his pocket with this one sentence and gave it to his father. Bob didn't tell him he had already read it. He took it and only nodded.  
"You know, son, sometime ... someday you will forget her. You'll get to know other women and then the right one will be there." Ben shook his head sadly.  
"I don't think so, Dad. Victoria was so ... different. It was like magic."  
Bob tapped his knee with his hand.  
"No, Benton. It was the moment that was magical."  
Ben looked at his father's face and tried to understand what he meant.  
"Let's sleep now, son." Bob said. "Tomorrow we have to dig out here."  
Ben nodded. He was tired.

That night, Ben slept deeply and dreamless for the first time in a long time. When Bob woke him up the next morning, he knew everything would be all right.  
It was difficult for the two men to get out of the snow-covered hut. Ben was very weak and Bob had to do the main work.  
Ben often had to take breaks. Nevertheless, he enjoyed doing physical work with his father. At last they had done it. Ben was completely exhausted, which annoyed him. He had always been healthy and strong. And now? What annoyed him most, however, was that he himself was to blame. He vowed never to touch a drop of alcohol again.

That evening they sat by the fire and looked up into the sky. Millions of stars glittered and the northern light danced dumbly through the darkness.  
In the distance a lonely wolf howled and the dogs fell in.  
Ben smiled.  
Here he was at home.  
Here he was happy.  
And whole.  
Here he belonged, to this wondrous, vast, magical, cruel country, where his soul dwelt.

Bob put his arm around him. He saw the glow in the eyes of his son.These beautiful, blue eyes that reminded him of his beloved Caroline.  
Softly, he said, "Look around, son. Look at this wonderful country. Our task is to preserve and protect this beauty. We swore that. Don't forget that, Ben. Never forget that. Here we belong."  
Ben nodded, smiling. His father was right. Bob pulled his boy to himself and whispered, "I can't promise you everything will be fine, boy. But I know for sure: everything will be better. I love you, Ben."  
It was the first and only time that Benton Fraser heard these words from his father's mouth. "And I you, Dad," he whispered back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Ray understand Ben's reason for never drinking alcohol again...

September 1995, Chicago

 

Ben and Ray sat silent in Ray's Riv after Ben finished his story. Ray didn't know what to say. He had expected everything, but that?  
For the first time since he knew his friend, he felt how lonely Ben had been his whole life.  
Ben smiled, lost in thoughts, then said, "Well, Ray. And that's why I don't drink."

Ray looked him in the face. In these beautiful, blue eyes that could annoy him with a single look or to persuade him to do anything. Deep inside, he knew that the friendship to this extraordinary stranger was something special.  
Something that even the darkest hours stood.  
Something ... Magical.

Ray grinned broadly. Actually, he was a realist. He didn't believe in magic, but Fraser ... yes, Fraser had something in him that could be compared to magic.  
Softly, he said, "Thank you, Benny."  
Ben just nodded.  
"Come on, let's go home, here nothing happens tonight."  
Ben agreed.

But actually both knew that much had happened.  
They had realized that friendship could also be infinite.  
As infinite as the sky above Ben's home.

 

TYK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following. And also thanks for not judging on my not quite correct grammar. All mistakes I did on my own. They're unique.  
> As some of you may know, I taught English myself just by reading due South fanfics and this is my first translation I did mostly on my own.  
> Thanks to ButterflyGhost for encouraging me in this.


End file.
